


Sweet Alyssum

by lipeviez



Series: My Fleurmione Week 2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Betrothal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, Day 3: Accidental Marriage, F/F, No Voldemort no Horcruxes, Romance, clueless witches, fleurmioneweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipeviez/pseuds/lipeviez
Summary: Hermione and Fleur tell the real story to their teenage daughter of how they got engaged.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Series: My Fleurmione Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908091
Comments: 24
Kudos: 250
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2020





	Sweet Alyssum

**Author's Note:**

> Fleurmione Week is going well, so many great entries so far. Including a cool piece of art. You can see it if you go to the tumblr. https://fleurmioneweek.tumblr.com
> 
> For this story, I’m changing things up and setting the Triwizard Tournament during Hermione’s sixth year, which makes her seventeen. Also, Harry’s parents and Sirius managed to kill Voldemort the night he tried to kill Harry which means they’re alive and all is good and fluffy.
> 
> Day 3: Accidental Marriage (I changed it a bit and made it accidental betrothal)

Hermione and her wife Fleur were sitting in their kitchen, eating breakfast and waiting for their daughter to come downstairs. Alyssa would be going back to Hogwarts the next day and Hermione was always excited about the send-off at the station. And despite Fleur’s annual complaints about Alyssa having chosen Hogwarts over Beauxbatons, Fleur was excited, too. But Hermione was also concerned. Their daughter had been acting strangely for nearly a week. At first they thought it was just normal teenage troubles like hormones. She shuddered at the thought, remembering her experience as a teenager. But now they wondered if there was something more serious going on. Whatever it was, they were running out of time to find a resolution before Alyssa’s departure.

A fifteen-year-old girl with wavy light brown hair and blue eyes trudged into the kitchen and sat down morosely at the breakfast table.

Fleur and Hermione exchanged a glance and the brunette nodded, knowing she was going to take the lead on this one.

While Fleur passed over the toast, Hermione asked, “Ready to start a new year of school? I know your trunk is all packed up but if there’s anything else you need, we can get it today or just owl us and we’ll send it on over.”

Hermione made a mental note to confirm tomorrow’s time for the international portkey they’d reserved. There shouldn’t be a problem leaving from France, but better safe than sorry.

“I know, Mum, we already went over this,” replied Alyssa, taking a small nibble of her toast.

“Alyssa, don’t you think it’s time you fill us in on what’s been bothering you? This isn’t like you. Normally you’re bouncing off the walls in excitement about getting back to school with your friends.”

The girl sighed. “I know.”

Fleur chimed in, “You can tell us anything. We only want to help.”

Alyssa was silent for a long while but Hermione and Fleur were patient.

“James and I argued last week at the Burrow.”

They had been there for one last summer party before the schoolyear. Hermione bit her tongue, wanting to immediately know what Harry’s son had said to her daughter but anger would only make Alyssa shut down.

“He… he said that I was too stuck up and too smart, and that I would never get anyone to like me.”

Alyssa’s bottom lip trembled and she looked to be trying to hold back tears. Hermione didn’t know what to say. Other things like worries over academics or a sudden bout of premature homesickness she could’ve handled, but this? She sent a helpless shrug to her wife, signaling her to jump in.

“And what did you say to that?” Fleur asked, putting her arm around Alyssa’s shoulders.

“I gave him a good, hard bop on the nose,” whispered Alyssa.

Fleur tutted in disapproval but Hermione laughed.

“Good,” she said.

“Hermione, don’t encourage her.”

“No, James Potter is sixteen years old and should know better than to pick on a Granger.”

“A Delacour-Granger.”

“Precisely.”

“Mum, Maman, you’re both missing the point. Is he right? Is that why I don’t have anyone?”

Hermione turned to her daughter, her eyes softening. She could’ve shared her suspicion that James Potter liked her but she would not reward his bad behavior by excusing it like that. If he really liked Alyssa, he should figure out a more respectful way.

“I didn’t even know you were interested in dating,” replied Hermione honestly. “I didn’t meet your mother until I was seventeen, you still have plenty of time to be…”

“Plenty of kids my age date, Mum. And you can’t use your story. That only makes me feel worse. Not everyone meets the love of her life in school, who also happens to be the top Beauxbatons student and eventual winner of the Triwizard Tournament, has a whirlwind romance, and then proposes marriage the week after she graduates Hogwarts in a fancy restaurant in Marseille. Everything went perfect for you guys from the start.”

Fleur snorted and tilted her head at Hermione. The brunette rolled her eyes and huffed before mouthing the word ‘fine’ to her wife.

“Actually… that was the second engagement. And while our romance went smoothly during your mother’s seventh year, it was much more chaotic than simply ‘whirlwind’ when we first met,” Fleur said.

Alyssa’s eyes widened. “Second engagement? What?”

Fleur opened her mouth to speak but Hermione interrupted. “It was an accident. Unintentional. It doesn’t even count which is why we’ve never said anything.”

“Oh, it most definitely counted,” Fleur added with a smirk. “Magic was involved, remember? And don’t forget the publicity.”

“Not helping, love. And the publicity, if you recall, had it wrong.”

“Nevertheless, it’s still our truth and it is time Alyssa knew it. What if it happens to her? She is Veela, too.”

“All right. But I’m telling it,” grumbled Hermione.

“Bon. I will just add my flourishes along the way.”

“Will somebody please just get on with it?” Alyssa exclaimed exasperatedly at her mothers.

As Hermione began the story of how she met Fleur and how their love story began in the most unconventional way, she started remembering other details. It had been a long time since Hogwarts and sounds and smells came to her, flooding her with memories.

*::::*

Hermione Granger, Gryffindor and sixth year prefect, had always looked down upon hormones and how they seemed to turn perfectly ordinary teenagers into maniacs. Mind over matter, she would say. And in those moments when she caught it happening in herself, she would grit her teeth and will herself to not be at the mercy of any biological responses or urges.

She only wished her peers would behave similarly. It was frustrating to see how much of the student body was reacting to the recent arrival of the Beauxbatons delegation for the Triwizard Tournament. The girls in particular with their inappropriate-for-the-weather attire and their beautiful faces.

It was also frustrating how her own body reacted to their presence. Sure, she liked girls. A lot. But she never had much luck with them. Hermione always felt inadequate when trying to talk up a pretty girl and the ones from Beauxbatons sent that feeling into overdrive. Especially a certain blonde…

Ugh. Hermione shook her head. _Don’t start daydreaming again_ , she scolded herself. Best not to start imagining things that were never going to happen. It was already going to be one of those days, she didn’t need to get hot and bothered, too.

Earlier that morning, a stray spell from a first year who’d been trying to show off on a moving staircase struck her wrist, breaking the clasp of the silver charm bracelet she was wearing. It was a favorite as it was the first piece of real jewelry she’d ever bought for herself. But she was distracted and in a hurry so she pocketed the bracelet instead of repairing it, figuring she would do so sometime later in the day. To add insult to injury, when it was time for the feast in the Great Hall with the visiting schools, she came upon a fifth-year student just outside the hall repeating words like Beauxbatons and Delacour under his breath and clutching what was likely meant to be a flower bouquet, but they were wilting. It was a pathetic display and Hermione refused to have anyone in Gryffindor humiliate themselves in front of so many students by making advances on a recently arrived guest. Using her authority as a prefect, she confiscated the flowers. The boy looked relieved, saying he was too scared anyway and that he hoped Hermione enjoyed the flowers. Not knowing what to do with them, however, she just carried them in with her.

Sitting down, Hermione greeted Harry and Ron as she set the sad flowers on the table before glancing around at the international selection of dishes and serving herself some bouillabaisse. Ron asked what the dish was and she briefly explained only for him to turn up his nose and dive into the black pudding. She ate and read her book, glancing at the flowers now and then. They weren’t even tied together by a ribbon. Getting an idea, she brought out her broken bracelet and repaired it, then secured it around the bouquet. She also cast a rejuvenation spell on the flowers, which made the violets and white roses look bright and freshly cut. Something was still missing and she thought of the small white flowers that were in her mother’s flower bed so she transfigured a few of the flowers into sweet alyssum, which made the bouquet look full and lush. There. They looked good enough to put in a small vase in her room and she resolved to do so after the meal. Satisfied, she turned back to her book.

She didn’t get very far before Ron turned away from his chattering with Harry to speak to her.

“What you doing with those, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, his mouth full of food.

“Oh, they’re just a token of affection from a hormone-influenced idiot.”

Ron spluttered and Harry barked out a laugh.

“Well done, Hermione,” cheered Harry with a smile. “I’m glad one of us is having some luck.”

“Who was it? Who gave you those flowers? Do I need to give her a talking to?” Ron puffed himself up, his face getting red with indignation.

In the past, this would’ve reeked of jealousy and possessiveness but Hermione had come out to her friends during fifth year and, after a few bumps with Ron, they were all very supportive. Ron now saw himself as a kind of brother and tried to look out for her in the way he did for Ginny, not that he had to. She had only kissed one girl and it had been on a dare at a party in the Gryffindor common room the previous year. As far as dating, she was beginning to think it was overrated and she refused to think this view had any connection with her less than stellar efforts in the romance department. In any event, Hermione still wished he didn’t take on the overprotective brother role so vehemently.

“They weren’t intended for me, silly,” she replied, gesturing towards the Ravenclaw table. Ron nodded in understanding and his eyes went all goofy as he turned back to his food. Instead of rolling her eyes at him, Hermione let her eyes settle on the blonde she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since she’d first seen her emerge from the Beauxbatons carriage. A girl who everyone in the whole hall seemed to be affected by. When blue eyes caught her staring, she quickly turned back to her book trying to suppress a blush. She scolded herself again. _Stupid hormones_.

*::::*

_“You have to remember, darling, your mother was very adorable back then and easily flustered. Not the confident, assertive woman she is today,” Fleur told Alyssa._

_“You still think I’m adorable,” replied Hermione with a knowing smile._

_“I only tell you that because I love the blush that goes all the way down to your…”_

_“Maman!” yelled Alyssa. “And why isn’t your accent as strong as it was back then?”_

_“Plenty of English lessons from your mother here,” smirked Fleur._

_“Ew, forget I asked.”_

Fleur was not in a good mood. Scotland was cold, the Hogwarts castle was less than impressive, and she loathed all the attention she was getting from the Hogwarts students. Her friends teased her that the real reason she was upset was that so far she had found the romantic offerings of Hogwarts to be lacking. And perhaps a small part of her did consider this school year a lost cause in that area. But her friends didn’t understand what really bothered her.

At Beauxbatons she had worked hard to prove herself an intelligent, capable witch who deserved all the academic accolades she’d earned over the years. It happened slowly but eventually her friends and classmates had gotten used to her Veela thrall and respected her achievements. Now she was here to enter a renowned tournament and many of her classmates, and the headmistress herself, fully expected her name to be chosen. But did the Hogwarts students see all of that? No. All they saw was a pretty girl in a fetching uniform and since most of them had no tolerance to her thrall yet, they were currently treating her as an object of lust.

She did not have the patience or the years to prove herself again to this school. Fleur could only hope to show her worth in the tournament but first she had to be chosen.

In the meantime, Fleur was determined to take advantage of whatever positives existed at this school. Chief among them was networking, starting with the more well-known students. As the year went on, her plan was to also acquaint herself with the brightest students, no matter their connections. This wasn’t part of a ‘climb to power’ scheme. She was already set to lead her clan upon her mother’s retirement so she didn’t actually need to network in order to achieve that. But knowing the future leaders of the British wizarding world could only be beneficial to her clan and she would be a fool to not get a head start on that.

Sitting in the Great Hall, she turned her gaze to her first target: Harry Potter, son of the witch and wizard who helped vanquish Voldemort. Fleur heard his academic prowess was only moderately above average, though this was likely due to lack of effort rather than ability, and that he was kind and well-liked. He was also a skilled Quidditch player and duelist. Rumor had it that Harry wanted to be an auror and that he would likely find much success in that profession.

“Not bad looking eizer,” Fleur whispered under her breath, not that she was interested. Fleur liked a challenge and Harry looked too nice to present much of one. She also preferred girls.

Then her eyes caught brown ones looking at her. The girl was sitting near the Potter boy so Fleur deduced she was a friend. She had untamed brown hair and an expression that implied interest but not the naked desire she was used to seeing in the other students. This was a good thing. She was also cute. Another good thing. Then the girl realized Fleur was looking at her and turned away.

Fleur smirked. Maybe the year wouldn’t be such a lost cause after all. Now she had an even better reason to approach Potter’s table. She would introduce herself to him and his friends and also find a way to further fluster this witch.

Devising an excuse to speak to the young man, she told her sister she would be right back and stood up. Hopefully Harry had enough strength of mind to not be affected by her thrall.

*::::*

_“Ew, Mum, make her stop. I don’t want to hear Maman talking about how cute she thought you and Uncle Harry were,” muttered Alyssa._

_“Hush, pay attention, I’m telling this next part. And you’ll get to hear how less than confident she was, too, back then” replied Hermione with a small laugh. Her wife scoffed but she also smiled._

Hermione directed all her focus on her book, one hand absentmindedly gripping the bouquet of flowers as if she were going to use it as a bookmark, and quickly forgot how embarrassed she’d been just a moment ago at getting caught staring. Thus, she didn’t really notice the girl behind her who had started talking with her friends. Hermione heard the words but they didn’t register right away. Not until she heard the name.

“I suppose I should ‘ave started with my name instead of requests for food, non? It is Fleur Delacour, I am pleased to meet you Monsieur Potter.”

“H-Harry,” stuttered Harry. Hermione didn’t turn around but she knew who it was. The blonde girl she’d been staring at. She was mortified and kept her head towards her plate but she could see how the girl affected Harry and Ron. Harry looked like he was in a daze but was still managing polite responses. Ron turned purple and couldn’t come up with anything intelligible. Hermione rolled her eyes and a flash of anger came over her at the girl’s haughty, confident tone.

“And zis is?” Fleur asked.

“Erm, these are my friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,” replied Harry, who still looked to be clearing the fog in his brain.

 _Shit_ , thought Hermione. Now she would have to talk to her.

“Grggglebrggle,” tried Ron but he was hopeless.

Hermione finally turned around. It was the polite thing to do, she argued. Amused blue eyes took her breath away. Surprisingly, it looked almost as if the blonde was just as affected which made Hermione’s heart race even faster.

“Mademoiselle Granger, it is nice to meet you,” said Fleur almost nervously. “I ‘ave to go back to my table but I came ‘ere in the interests of getting to know more people and to see about ze bouillabaisse.”

The blonde witch gestured towards the bowl, as if acknowledging it was a weak excuse but determined to follow through with it. Somehow this girl instantly went from haughty to relatable and Hermione liked it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry clumsily reach for it. Seeing her chance at continued contact with the girl she hurriedly reached for the bowl and stood up, holding it out for Fleur to take.

Fleur laughed and Hermione blushed at the sound. A hand reached towards her but instead of only taking the bowl, the girl also took the bouquet of flowers that had remained in Hermione’s hand while grabbing the bouillabaisse.

“Are zese for me?” Fleur asked, quirking up an eyebrow. It was an attempt at playfulness but Hermione saw the sharp intake of breath as she looked at the flowers, the way the girl was leaning slightly towards her.

“Uh…”

“Zey are quite beautiful. And ‘old a lovely meaning, especially ze alyssum, which I’m sure you are very much aware.”

Hermione almost cracked at seeing the slight pink grow on Fleur’s cheeks. Her palms got sweaty. The girl was flirting with her. _Flirt back, Hermione. Flirt back!_

“Y-yes!” answered Hermione. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

 _Fuck, fuckity fuck. Could I be any more cliché?_ her mind yelled.

“And you feed me, too. ‘Ow gallant,” replied Fleur, glancing down at the bowl in her hands and then smelling the flowers.

Her blush deepened. So far she was holding her own but Hermione didn’t know how much longer she could make it last. The only thing helping her keep it together was seeing that the girl’s reactions appeared genuine.

“I… yes… the bouillabaisse was what you came for, right?” said Hermione.

Fleur smiled. “Merci. I ‘ope to see you around soon. Per’aps a tour of ze castle?”

“I would love to,” breathed Hermione, wanting to do anything to see that smile again. “I mean, yes, uh, whenever you would like.”

“Bon. I shall talk wiz you soon, ‘Ermione,” Fleur replied softly.

Hermione melted at the sound of her name coming from the girl and watched as she started her walk back to the table. Before the blonde took more than a few steps, she remembered one more thing.

“Erm, Fleur,” Hermione called out. The girl turned around and slowly walked back to Hermione, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Not even the return of the girl’s cockiness could take this feeling away from the bookworm. Whatever was happening felt right and she went with it. “I don’t think you noticed but there’s a bracelet on the bouquet. I want you to have that, too.”

Fleur’s features softened and her cheeks turned even more pink. Hermione smiled, knowing she’d done the right thing. It didn’t matter what the girl said next or would ask of her, her answer was yes. It was always going to be yes.

“Zank you for ze gifts, ‘Ermione,” whispered Fleur.

At that moment, Hermione felt a deep warmth come over her that fast became a burning heat. It was unusual. It was more than just feeling happy or feeling flushed. The feeling was blissful yet heavy, like something had established itself deep in her gut and made her want to reach for Fleur to pull her into an embrace.

The blonde’s eyes widened as well, making Hermione wonder if she felt something, too.

“Merde,” exclaimed Fleur, glancing down at everything she was holding.

Fleur’s face paled and Hermione started to panic. What did she do? Was something wrong?

“I ‘ave to go, ‘Ermione. Excusez-moi,” Fleur said and rushed back to the Ravenclaw table, roughly putting down the bowl and then looking at the flowers as if they offended her. Hermione watched her speak with her classmates and then hurry out of the hall.

 _At least she took the flowers with her_ , Hermione thought dejectedly, sitting back down at the table.

It took a few moments but Harry finally spoke up. “I think that went well. You should definitely follow up with her about that tour.”

Hermione nodded, not really paying attention.

“She’s a Veela,” said Ron.

At that, Hermione looked up sharply at Ron. “What?”

“A Veela. Why do you think I was affected the way I was? And how everyone else in the hall is around her? That’s a Veela thrall.”

“I didn’t feel a thrall or whatever you’re calling it.”

“True, you did seem more together than you normally are with a pretty girl,” replied Ron, frowning. “But I’ve heard people can be immune. Maybe that’s what you are. Immune.”

Hermione tuned him out. He was likely right, it would explain how many students in the hall responded to her as she passed, but it didn’t matter. Not to her anyway. What did matter was that something had gone wrong at the end of their encounter and she worried that she wouldn’t be able to fix whatever it was. It didn’t make much sense but she liked the girl. Really liked her and wanted to get to know her better. There was nothing she could do now but hopefully she would be able to figure out a way to make it up to Fleur tomorrow.

*::::*

*::::*

“Wait, you can’t end it there!” exclaimed Alyssa.

“But that was the point of this story. How we got engaged the first time,” replied Hermione, knowing she was needling her daughter’s curious nature. There would likely be many more follow-up questions about what happened during that schoolyear.

“I don’t get it. How did it happen?” asked Alyssa, looking between her mothers.

“I thought I told you to read the books on Veela very carefully,” scolded Fleur. “Especially the one on customs and rituals.”

“Okay, so I didn’t,” said Alyssa sarcastically, tilting her chin up. “Now please tell me what happened. How did Mum screw up?”

“I didn’t. Well, not in the way I thought,” answered Hermione with a small chuckle. “I just happened to use an old, traditional way of proposing to a Veela.”

“And my acceptance of her gifts was an acceptance of her proposal,” continued Fleur.

“The gifts? Flowers, a bracelet, and bouillabaisse?”

“The gift of food, symbolizing the sustenance your mother promised to provide. The gift of jewelry made of a pure metal found in nature, symbolizing her ability to provide in the way of shelter and other material needs. And the gift of flowers, symbolizing her love and devotion.”

“But Mum didn’t choose the flowers. Not all of them anyway.”

“That did not matter. They belonged to her, she gave them to me, and the combination of meanings was very appropriate for the occasion.”

“You were especially taken with the sweet alyssum, love,” said Hermione softly, taking her wife’s hand.

“Why, what do they mean?” asked Alyssa.

“Well, the language of flowers can change over time but violets can mean loyalty and faithfulness and white roses say ‘I’m worthy of you’ and…”

“It is your namesake, Alyssa, remember?” Fleur interrupted. “A common meaning for sweet alyssum is ‘worth beyond beauty’.”

Fleur leaned towards Hermione and kissed her softly. “You had no idea then how much that meaning spoke to me, ma chèrie.”

“And that automatically meant you were engaged?” Alyssa asked, ignoring her mothers’ tender moment.

Hermione explained, “Well, two more things were needed otherwise anyone could trick a Veela into a magical engagement. Magic like that also requires willing hearts and compatibility between our magic. And surprisingly enough, even though I didn’t know what I was doing, even though I had just met her, inside I knew that I would do anything for her.”

“It was the same for me, mon amour. My heart said yes before I recognized what was happening. There was just something about you. And we both felt our magic approve and seal our betrothal.”

Hermione nodded, remembering the heat that burned through her.

“So… Maman, that means you realized what had occurred and you ran away?”

Fleur laughed. “Yes, well, I was seventeen. And she was seventeen. I wasn’t ready to be engaged and I needed to write to my mother. Even magical betrothals can be broken.”

“It all worked out in the end,” Hermione said curtly, remembering all the hoops she’d had to jump through that year, remembering how Fleur avoided her.

“I will always be grateful for your stubbornness, Hermione Granger,” answered Fleur lovingly, pulling Hermione in for another kiss which soothed the pain of those old memories.

Hermione could hear the exasperated laugh from their daughter but there was more joy in it than annoyance which helped her to stop worrying about Alyssa’s previous moodiness. It wasn’t gone, she was still a teenager after all, but now that they knew what was bothering her, Hermione had no doubt they could tackle it together. Pulling out of the kiss, she gazed happily at her family. She had the most perfect wife anyone could ask for and a kid that was smarter than the both of them put together. Every challenge and hardship she’d had to endure during her sixth year was well worth this life she had made with Fleur Delacour.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m ending this here for now. I suppose it could continue but I’ll have to think about it. :)


End file.
